In these days of wonderful hopes and fears there was, in Maiden Lane, a very handsome residence—­an old house even in the days of Washington, for Peter Van Clyffe had built it early in the century as a bridal present to his daughter when she married Philip Moran, a lawyer who grew to eminence among colonial judges.  The great linden trees which shaded the garden had been planted by Van Clyffe; so also had the high hedges of cut boxwood, and the wonderful sweet briar, which covered the porch and framed all the windows filling the open rooms in summer time with the airs of Paradise.  On all these lovely things the old Dutchman had stamped his memory, so that, even to the third generation, he was remembered with an affection, that every springtime renewed.

One afternoon in April, 1791, two men were standing talking opposite to the entrance gates of this pleasant place.  They were Captain Joris Van Heemskirk, a member of the Congress then sitting in Federal Hall, Broad Street, and Jacobus Van Ariens, a wealthy citizen, and a deacon in the Dutch Church.  Van Heemskirk had helped to free his own country and was now eager to force the centuries and abolish all monarchies.  Consequently, he believed in France; the tragedies she had been enacting in the holy name of Liberty, though they had saddened, had, hitherto, not discouraged him.  He only pitied the more men who were trying to work out their social salvation, without faith in either God or man.  But the news received that morning had almost killed his hopes for the spread of republican ideas in Europe,

“Van Ariens,” he said warmly, “this treatment of King Louis and his family is hardly to be believed.  It is too much, and too far.  If King George had been our prisoner we should have behaved towards him with humanity.  After this, no one can foresee what may happen in France.”

“That is the truth, my friend,” answered Van Ariens.  “The good Domine thinks that any one who can do so might also understand the Revelations.  The French have gone mad.  They are tigers, sir, and I care not whether tigers walk on four feet or on two.  We won our freedom without massacres.”

“We had Washington and Franklin, and other good and wise leaders who feared God and loved men.”

“So I said to the Count de Moustier but one hour ago.  But I did not speak to him of the Almighty, because he is an atheist.  Yet if we were prudent and merciful it was because we are religious.  When men are irreligious, the Lord forsakes them; and if bloodshed and bankruptcy follow it is not to be wondered at.”

“That is true, Van Ariens; and it is also the policy of England to let France destroy herself.”  “Well, then, if France likes the policy of England, it is her own affair.  But I am angry at France; she has stabbed Liberty in Europe for one thousand years.  A French Republic!  Bah!  France is yet fit for nothing but a despotism.  I wish the Assembly had more control—­”